The referee's whistle sent both teams towards the tunnel.
Nobody spoke much on the walk back.
The effort of the first forty-five minutes lingered in every stride. Shirts clung to damp backs, boots scraped against the concrete floor, and water bottles were already being uncapped before the dressing-room door had fully closed.
Paco entered last.
He shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against it for a moment, letting the room settle. Johan sat with his elbows resting on his knees, breathing heavily. Abril pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands together, replaying Elche's equaliser in his mind. Across the room, Álex drank from his bottle without saying a word.
Only when the last bottle was lowered did Paco step forward.
"That goal changes nothing."
Every head lifted.
"They came here with one idea." He looked around the room before continuing. "Make sure Álex never turns."
A few players nodded.
"They've done it well."
Álex didn't react. There was nothing to disagree with.
Paco looked at him briefly before turning back to the rest of the squad.
"But football doesn't stop because one player is marked."
He walked over to the magnetic board and moved a blue magnet away from the centre.
"Every time this happens..."
Another magnet followed it.
"...someone else inherits the space."
He turned to Gamón.
"You've seen it."
Gamón nodded.
"They're stepping out earlier now."
"They have to," Paco replied. "If they don't, Álex receives facing forward. If they do, you get more room to play."
Paco placed the magnets back on the board and faced the players again.
"So don't play the game they want."
His eyes moved around the room.
"If the pass into Álex isn't there, don't force it. Keep the ball moving. Make them run again. They'll make another mistake."
He pointed towards Johan.
"You scored because you attacked the space."
Then towards Pablo.
"And you waited for the right moment instead of rushing the cross."
Paco smiled faintly.
"That's our football."
The room relaxed.
Not because they were winning.
Because they knew exactly what was expected of them.
Paco clapped his hands once.
"We've got another forty-five minutes."
He looked towards the substitutes.
"Javi."
The fourteen-year-old looked up immediately.
"Start getting ready."
Javi stood without asking another question.
Whether he came on in five minutes or twenty didn't matter.
He would be ready.
---
A few doors down, Elche's dressing room carried a different mood.
Their coach stood in front of a tablet resting on the treatment table. The replay of Valencia's goal had already run three times.
He tapped the screen and froze the image.
"Look here."
The players leaned forward.
Álex stood near the edge of the centre circle with two midfielders closing towards him.
The coach pointed at Pablo, sprinting into the space behind them.
"Who sees him?"
Nobody answered.
"You don't."
He looked at his midfielders.
"Because both of you are looking at Castillo."
One of them frowned.
"We didn't want him turning."
"And he never did."
The coach nodded.
"You followed the plan."
For a second, the room looked relieved.
Then he changed the picture.
"But football isn't about completing instructions. It's about recognising what's happening in front of you."
He replayed the move from the beginning.
"This time, don't watch Castillo."
The players' eyes followed the ball instead.
Only then did they notice Pablo's run.
The coach switched the tablet off.
"That's the difference."
He folded his arms.
"He's fourteen, but he's playing with patience. He's happy to let someone else hurt us if it means we keep chasing him."
Silence filled the room.
Finally, the captain spoke.
"So what do we change?"
"We stay compact."
The coach answered immediately.
"If he drops deep, let him have it. Our centre is more important than following him into places where he can't hurt us."
He looked around the room.
"We've spent forty-five minutes trying to stop one player."
His voice remained calm.
"Now let's stop Valencia."
---
Outside, the assistant referees were already checking their communication systems.
Players began filtering back into the tunnel in small groups.
Javi jogged lightly along the touchline, warming his legs while Paco watched from a distance. He didn't call him over. There was nothing else to explain.
Gamón adjusted the captain's armband before glancing at Álex.
"They'll change something."
Álex nodded.
"They have to."
"And if they don't?"
A small smile appeared on Álex's face.
"Then we'll keep making them choose."
The fourth official signalled that the break was over.
Both teams walked back onto the pitch beneath the afternoon sun.
The score remained level.
The match did not.
The next forty-five minutes would belong to the side that adapted first.